


Tales of the Warden

by Amariahellcat



Series: The Cousins Lavellan [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, One Shot Collection, Smut, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amariahellcat/pseuds/Amariahellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hero of Ferelden was Legend - her feats memorialized, her actions never forgotten.</p><p>But the woman who would come to be known as the Hero started off much simpler; as a timid Circle Mage of Elven descent, one who joined the Grey Wardens as a bid to find her true place in the world.</p><p>Ayre Surana - known as 'Mouse' in the Circle - never expected to be a hero. But if that's what it takes to save the people she cares about, so be it.</p><p>A collection of snippets/one shots. Fits in with the Cousins Lavellan Canon and explains certain things to come in the timeline. Tags/rating will be updated as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Goodbyes, Wardens, and Betrayals

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Yes, I know, I'm starting ANOTHER one. I'm sorry *sigh*
> 
> This will be just what it says; a collection of snippets and oneshots from Origins, to give more detail/substance to my Warden, Ayre Surana.
> 
> In this chapter you get three snippets: Goodbyes, A Fellow Warden, and Betrayal.
> 
> More an intro chapter then anything, but I digress. Enjoy! <3

**Snippet #1: Goodbyes**

“Take some time for yourself, child, pack and prepare. You leave with Duncan at first light.”

 

“First Enchanter, may I, ah,” Ayre had to consciously stop herself from biting her lip, trying to seem  _ brave _ , confident, not the timid mouse she was known as in the Circle, “Have a word?  Privately?”

 

“Of course, child.”

 

Ayre smiled gratefully, giving Duncan a respectful bow before following the First Enchanter from the room, stepping into the Towers library and claiming one of the empty alcoves.

 

“Is everything alright, my dear?” Irving’s tone was concerned, worried, and his brows lowered as he watched her, “Are you having second thoughts about joining the Grey Wardens? I can speak to Duncan, if you would rather not go with him-”

 

“No!” Ayre exclaimed, blushing at her outburst and continuing in a much calmer tone, “No, I don’t - I  _ want _ to join the Grey Wardens, First Enchanter. I want to  _ help _ . I just… if I’m not cut out for it, if I don’t fit in…”

 

“You may always return to us, Ayre, if you so wish.” Irving assured her gently, giving her shoulder a fond pat, “Though I have complete faith in you. You will be  _ fine _ .”

 

“ _ Thank you _ , First Enchanter.” Ayre managed to smile, spirit somewhat lifted by his confidence in her, “Um, have you seen Cullen, recently?”

 

“The young Templar that attended your Harrowing, correct?” Irving studied her for a moment, expression closed, “Might I ask  _ why _ you wish to know?”

 

“He is my friend.” Ayre answered honestly, never one to lie, “I… I’d just like to say goodbye.”

 

“I understand,” he was still giving her a searching look, still seeing something in her that Ayre wasn’t sure she herself knew of, but finally he answered “He was upstairs near the Storage Rooms, last I saw, retrieving something for one of the older Templars. You may still find him there.”

 

“Thank you again, First Enchanter.” Ayre’s smile didn’t waver, though she felt sad, suddenly, realizing she would be leaving  _ tomorrow _ , that she wouldn’t be seeing the familiar man for quite a while, “For… everything.”

 

“You are very welcome, Ayre. It has been an honor to watch you grow, to help you hone your abilities.” Irving smiled then, an expression reserved for quiet moments with his favored pupils, “Make us proud.”

 

“I will, First Enchanter,” Ayre promised, bowing respectfully, “If you’ll excuse me?”

 

“Of course, child. Do what you must.”

 

Ayre bowed - both to be polite and to show respect for the man who had instructed her - before quickly making her way out of the library, headed directly to the Storage Rooms.

 

Her last meeting with Cullen had been… awkward, to say the least. The Templar had all but  _ fled _ their conversation with a stuttered excuse and red cheeks, and Ayre had felt terrible about it since.

 

She’d simply wanted to spend time with him; Cullen was one of the few people who hadn’t called her ‘Mouse’ - ironically, considering the events of her Harrowing - or disregarded her, hadn’t brushed her off as ‘Irving’s favorite’ or the ‘do-gooder’.

 

Now, looking back, Ayre realized he’d probably taken the words to mean something  _ else _ \- to be an attempt at flirting, perhaps - and that was  _ not _ how she wanted to leave things between them.

 

So when she entered the Storage Rooms and found the Templar just turning to leave, she couldn’t help the relieved smile that broke out on her face, “Cullen! Hold a moment, please!”

 

She saw his shoulders go tense and his posture stiffen as she approached, his expression guarded as he turned towards her, “F-forgive me, Ayre, I am on an errand for the Knight Commander and I must-”

 

“Cullen.” Ayre cut him off, forcing herself to be  _ blunt _ and say what she wanted  _ before _ he went running again, “I just wanted to say good bye.”

 

“What?” that made his excuses cut off, amber eyes now locked firmly on her face, “Good bye? What are you-?”

 

“I’m joining the Grey Wardens.” Ayre smiled softly, watching realisation set over his expression, “I leave at first light. I just… wanted to say goodbye, and to wish you all the best, Cullen.”

 

“I… see.” Cullen swallowed, seeming to steel himself for a moment, before offering her a shaky smile, “T-take care of yourself, Ayre. B-be safe. And… no matter what anyone says, you are  _ not _ a mouse. Don’t… let them get to you.”

 

“I’ll do my best.” Ayre answered honestly, her own smile somewhat sad, “Thank you, Cullen. I hope that, one day, when the Blight is over, we might meet again.”

 

“I… would like that.” the Templar admitted quietly, “Safe journeys, Ayre.”

 

Ayre nodded, whispering another soft  _ thank you _ before giving a half-bow and turning to leave, feeling better having bid him goodbye.

 

She heard a rustle of armor from him, a quiet intake of breath as though he was about to say something… but all that followed her was silence, and Ayre left the room without looking back, knowing she had to look forwards.

 

_ You’re a Grey Warden as of tomorrow, Ayre, _ she told herself, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders as she headed to the mage quarters,  _ Time to start acting like it. No more Mouse. _

* * *

 

 

**Snippet #2: A Fellow Warden**

 

_ “There is one other Grey Warden currently in Camp, a young man about your age named Alistair. Find him, and then return to me; from there, we will proceed.” _

 

Ayre had set out immediately to fulfil the request, though she’d gotten sidetracked a few times on her way. She had few memories of life before the Circle - few good memories, anyways - and the people gathered in Ostagar were  _ interesting _ and diverse. There were groups from  _ every _ faction, it seemed; Mages and Tranquil, Templars, Ash Warriors, and others she wasn’t familiar with.

 

Ayre had done her best to stick to her original decision; to be as confident as she could force herself to be, to come to the Grey Wardens not as  _ Mouse _ , but as Ayre, a strong young woman who would serve well.

 

It was hard, at times, to keep the brave face up, but she had made it through the camp without any major issues; no one had sneered at her or put her down - the quartermaster had  _ tried _ before realizing she was a Grey Warden, and his attitude had quickly shifted with the knowledge.

 

She had, in fact, even managed to convince a guard to give his prisoner his lunch, a feat she was incredibly proud of herself for. In the Circle, she would never have attempted to persuade anyone of  _ anything _ , yet she’d managed with little issue.

 

Ayre had also managed to help the kennelmaster muzzle an infected Mabari, and hoped she would be able to locate the flower requested for the antidote for him.

 

And then she’d reached the specified area of the camp, climbing the old steps up to a slightly more secluded section, and she’d frozen at the sound of arguing.

 

The instinct to hide or flee was so strong she found herself half turned around before even realising she’d moved, forcing herself to walk determinedly forwards with her chin held high.

 

She paused still a few feet away from the two men, not wanting to invade on the conversation but to make it obvious she was there on purpose.

 

One of the two was clearly a Mage, dressed in the typical robes and with the magical aura that indicated his status.

 

The other, then, had to be Alistair; a warrior of about her age, as Duncan had said, with sandy blonde hair and brown eyes, a light scruff visible on his chin and his expression one of amused sarcasm. He wore fairly standard armor - or she assumed it was standard, at least, as it was much less bulky and ornamental then the armor the Templars usually wore in the Circle - and had a sword and shield strapped to his back.

 

Ayre wasn’t usually one to judge others by looks - she’d met more than enough Mages in the Circle who acted friendly only to spread rumors behind other’s backs - yet as she watched him interact with the Mage, she got the distinct impression that Alistair was a good man, and that he would be a good companion.

 

_ He’s not bad to look at, either. _

 

_ That _ thought Ayre shoved firmly away before she could blush, attention snapping back to the two men as Alistair said something snarky and the Mage grumbled in response.

 

“Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!” the man barked, storming away past Ayre without another word.

 

“You know…” Alistair drawled, and Ayre realized suddenly that he was talking to  _ her _ , wearing a cheeky grin, “... _ one _ good thing about the Blight is how it brings people  _ together _ !”

 

Ayre couldn’t help the surprised giggle that escaped her, amused, “In a  _ way _ , I suppose…”

 

“It’s like a party! We could all stand in a circle and hold hands.  _ That _ would give the Darkspawn something to think about!”

 

Even as she held back another laugh, Ayre saw Alistair’s expression shift, sarcasm toned down when he spoke again, “Wait...we haven’t met, have we? I don’t suppose you happen to be another Mage?”

 

“Would that make your day worse?” Ayre couldn’t help teasing, relaxing further at the bark of laughter it drew from him.

 

“Hah! You’re a  _ cheeky _ one, I like that. If I might hazard a guess, then, I’d say you’re Duncan’s new recruit?” he was grinning ruefully, rubbing at the back of his head, “I should have recognized you right away, I apologize.”

 

“No need to apologize.” Ayre assured him, more at ease with the other Grey Warden then she’d expected to be, “You’re Alistair, yes?”

 

“I am. As the Junior member of the Order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining. Hopefully that’s not  _ to _ much of a turn off.”

 

“Please to meet you.” even comfortable as she was, Ayre remained polite, wanting to make sure she didn’t offer any offence, “My name is Ayre.”

 

“ _ Right _ , that was the name! You know it just occured to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?”

 

“I-I can handle myself better than most.” Ayre lifted her chin and  _ tried _ to slip back into the confident persona she’d adopted, a task that seemed strangely  _ simple _ in his presence.

 

“I’m getting that impression,” Alistair smirked, shifting his weight as he eyed her, “So I’m curious… have you ever actually encountered Darkspawn before?”

 

“Have  _ you _ ?” Ayre countered, surprised by her own daring.

 

“I’ve only fought them once up close,” the other Warden admitted, “And that was before the battles here started, which Duncan has kept me out of so far. Anyways… we should get back to Duncan. I imagine he’s eager to get things started.”

 

“May I ask… what the argument I saw was about?” even as she turned towards the steps, Ayre found she wanted to keep him talking, to spend time with this Grey Warden who didn’t look at her like an  _ other _ .

 

“With the mage?” when Ayre nodded, Alistair explained, “The Circle is here at the King’s request and the Chantry doesn’t like that one  _ bit _ . They just  _ love _ letting mages know how unwelcome they are. Which puts me in a bit of an awkward position, because I was once a Templar. Don’t worry, though; I’ve no intention of following any of  _ their _ orders.”

 

Ayre winced on reflex, rubbing her arms as a chill swept through her, “I will be sure to avoid the Chantry while we’re here, then.”

 

“If anyone says  _ anything _ unkind to you, Ayre, tell me,” Alistair demanded, expression suddenly serious as he matched his pace to hers, “Or Duncan. You’re a Grey Warden now; they have no control over you any longer.”

 

“I-I will.” there was the stutter she’d worked so hard to keep down, shoving away the blush that wanted to rise to her cheeks, “Thank you, Alistair.”

 

“Least I can do, for such a pretty girl,” Alistair shot her a wink before starting down the stairs, talking as he went, “Come on, best we find the other recruits and get back to Duncan as soon as possible - Ayre? Are you alright?”

 

“I-I’m fine!” Ayre jogged down the steps after him, trying to pretend she  _ hadn’t _ frozen to the spot at the unexpected compliment, cheeks now flushed against her will, “Let’s find the others. I-I look forwards to traveling with you, Alistair.”

 

“You  _ do _ ?” he teased, still grinning as they made their way back to the Wardens section of the camp, “Well now,  _ that’s _ a switch.”

 

_ This is it, Ayre. _ she told herself, still blushing as she followed after him, more determined then ever,  _ This is your new life. Make the best of it. _

* * *

 

 

**Snippet #3 - Betrayal**

 

They’d been betrayed.

 

Loghain had left them all to die. King Cailan, Duncan,  _ everyone _ .

 

And even as Alistair struck the killing blow - taking down the giant Ogre guarding the tower as Ayre lit the Beacon - they watched the traitor march away and leave them, trapped in the tower that should have been  _ safe _ .

 

They tried to fight - she and Alistair, and the two soldiers who had helped them make it through the tower - but more Darkspawn swarmed inside and they were outnumbered, outmatched.

 

Ayre found herself sprawling backwards with a gasp of pain as an arrow pierced her shoulder, hearing Alistair shout just before she hit the ground and her head bounced off the stone floor.

  
And then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Origins characters and timelines was very strange, so I hope I did okay!
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day! <3


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They survived Ostagar, and made it through Lothering - acquiring a few new faces along the way.
> 
> Ayre has her first Nightmare of the Archdemon, and Alistair's there to answer her questions - neither of them quite expected the connection beginning to form between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! One longer 'snippet' this time around, almost a proper chapter!
> 
> This is probably going to be how it is, honestly... some longer chapters, some shorter. The first one was more an intro, which is why I included the three smaller snippets in one to get things rolling.
> 
> This one I like by itself :) And I'm just rolling with what muses are agreeable atm - hopefully another Cl or LatH chapter will be coming soon! I'm just getting over a nasty head cold so I'm trying I promise <3
> 
> Anyhoo, enjoy! <3

_ Chaos and havoc, the stench of something rotten and flames licking along the edges of her vision. Then Darkspawn, and something bigger, something  _ **_evil_ ** _ , roaring and  _ **_staring at her_ ** _ , eyes empty and yet all seeing. A  _ **_dragon_ ** _ \- the Archdemon? - right there and  _ **_roaring_ ** _ and- _

 

-Ayre shot up from her bedroll with a scream dying on her lips, blind with panic as the visions faded.

 

She tensed when a hand closed on her shoulder, head whipping around and startled grey eyes meeting warm, worried brown.

 

“Easy, Ayre.” the man mumbled, the familiarity of his voice grounding her and making the terror recede.

 

“A-Alistair?” She managed after a moment, feeling tongue tied from the fading panic.

 

“You’re awake, now,” the warrior assured her, though he kept his hand on her shoulder a moment longer, a grounding touch she was thankful for, “You were having a nightmare.”

 

The words were a statement rather than a question, and Ayre could only nod, looking away from his concerned stare before she could blush.

 

Whatever noise she’d made, it hadn’t been enough to wake anyone else in their little rag-tag band, and Ayre was glad for that small courtesy. They had all been worn out once they’d finally found a spot to camp, and hadn’t bothered with tents; bedrolls spaced around the fire would do for now, they’d decided.

 

In the span of a day, it had gone from being just she and Alistair - the last of the Grey Warden forces from Ostagar, rescued by a very cryptic Flemeth - to being them and four others, three people and a Mabari.

 

The Mabari that Ayre had helped heal back at Ostagar, before everything had fallen apart; the war hound - affectionately named ‘Tracker’ for his prowess in finding them - was currently sleeping at the foot of her bedroll, large form casting shadows from the fire.

 

Morrigan - bade aid them by her strange mother - had made her own area further off from the rest of them, though she had bid Ayre a decent sleep before retreating.

 

Leliana she could hear snoring softly from across the firepit, and Sten sat furthest from them, the Qunari very much awake and keeping watch but seeming unbothered by her sudden movements.

 

And then, of course, there was Alistair himself, still crouched at her side and watching her with a strange mix of concern and knowing, his hand dropping from her shoulder once he was sure she was fully awake.

 

Ayre missed the touch the moment it was gone, pushing the thought away as she forced herself to look at him again.

 

“It seemed… very  _ real _ .” She admitted quietly.

 

“That’s because it  _ was _ , in a way.” Alistair remained beside her, grimacing as he spoke, “There wasn’t time to warn you - we haven’t stopped since we left the Wilds, there was never a chance to go into detail about it -but when I heard you thrashing around in your sleep, I realized I’d forgotten to tell you.”

 

“The Joining - the Taint - it  _ connects _ us to the Darkspawn, and to the Archdemon. One consequence is nightmares; especially just after completing the Ritual. The Archdemon…  _ speaks _ to the hoard, and we hear it, too, sometimes. That’s what the nightmares are.”

 

“That’s…” Ayre swallowed, trying to arrange her thoughts properly, “...somewhat terrifying, honestly.”

 

Alistair cracked a wry grin at that, “I’d have been worried if you’d said anything else, truthfully. You’ll be  _ just _ fine. I am sorry for not telling you about it beforehand, Ayre; though I hope my presence has helped somehow.”

 

“It has. Thank you for telling me, Alistair,” Ayre tried to smile, wincing as images of the nightmare flashed through her mind, “I… don’t know that I can go back to sleep right now, though.”

 

“If y’like, I don’t mind staying up with you if you wanted to talk. I mean-” Alistair shuffled his stance slightly, giving an embarrassed grin, “If it would help distract you.”

 

“I’d like that,” Ayre cut off his rambling, smiling gratefully, “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

 

Alistair’s grin was once more the charming, goofy expression she’d come to expect as he rose to his feet and offered her a hand up, “Not at all, dear lady. Come, let’s sit by the fire, and you can ask me any burning questions you may have about the Grey Wardens.”

 

Ayre couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her as she accepted the hand up, fingers curling in to savor the warmth his hand had left on her skin.

 

They settled on the log nearest her bedroll, and Ayre did her best to ask questions, Alistair more than happy to answer.

 

The topic strayed to Duncan, and to Alistair’s recruitment to the Wardens from his place in Templar training.

 

And then, as Ayre had dreaded, the conversation turned towards her own origins.

 

“Do you remember your life before the Circle?” Alistair questioned, eyes bright with honest curiosity.

 

“No.” she answered, and it was true, “I know I was from a Dalish Clan - which is why I have Vallaslin - but I don’t remember my parents, or where my Clan was settled, or anything.I just remember… pain, from receiving the Vallaslin.”

 

“How old were you?”

 

“I was eight.”

 

Alistair scowled, “That’s awfully young.”

 

Ayre shrugged helplessly, “My magic manifested early, and it’s always been powerful; they didn’t want to take any risks, I guess.”

 

“And life in the Circle was… better?”

 

“I hated it.” She admitted sourly.

 

Ayre wasn’t sure why she was comfortable telling him these things; they’d barely known each other a week. Yet Alistair had shared his past with her,and she  _ wanted _ to tell him.

 

“In the Circle… most of the other apprentices called me  _ Mouse _ , because I was shy and timid. They mocked me - for being Irving’s ‘favorite’, for being quiet, for… being an elf, and having Vallaslin.”

 

“I didn’t think elves were treated differently in the Circle?” Alistair questioned softly, and Ayre grimaced.

 

“The mentors and Enchanters didn’t, and most of the time neither did the Templars. It was the other apprentices.” Shivering, Ayre pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them, “I had First Enchanter Irving, of course. And… a couple of friends.” Her grip tightened at the thought of them - Jowan, the one she’d betrayed, and Cullen, whose reserved nature had beat her own - as she pressed on “But… when Duncan offered me a place in the Warden's, I accepted immediately. I didn’t want to be  _ Mouse _ anymore. I just want to be  _ Ayre _ .”

 

“Duncan sent word ahead when he recruited you, you know.”

 

Ayre’s gaze shot to Alistair at the words, but he was staring at the fire, grinning ruefully.

 

“It was a simple letter, meant to make me  _ behave _ more then anything, I’m sure. It said ‘I have found a new Recruit. She is timid, but strong willed, and will make a fine Warden. Do not insult her with your manner.” Alistair paused, chuckling, “And what did I go and do but make a stupid joke the first time I spoke to you, to caught up in the argument with the mage to notice exactly  _ who _ was approaching.”

 

“And then you joked  _ back _ \- I had made you smile and laugh rather than scaring you away - and you’ve faced every challenge head on, not once shrinking away.” Alistair turned to grin at her, making her heart thump, “You’re no Mouse, Ayre. You’re a true Grey Warden, and I think everyone in our little band of misfits would agree. I’m just sorry it’s cost you any sort of place to call  _ home _ .”

 

“But it hasn’t,” Ayre murmured, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear and forcing herself to hold his gaze, “My home is with the Grey Wardens, now, with…  _ you _ , I suppose.”

 

“That… that it is.” The warrior agreed, looking strangely pleased with her words.

 

Ayre managed to hold his gaze a moment longer before she had to look away, standing as a flush spread over her face, “I, um, think I can sleep now. Thank you, Alistair. Good night.”

 

“Good night, Ayre.” she heard him mumble as she retreated to her bedroll, not catching the way he was watching her, a different look in his eye.

  
She was too busy trying to silence the thrumming of her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm getting somewhat used to her, Ayre is kind of fun to write - as is Alistair! Hope I'm doing ok!
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day! <3


	3. The Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They defeated the demons, saved the Mages... and yet Ayre seems not herself.
> 
> Alistair decides to stop being a coward and speaks his mind... surprised when the woman he's come to care for feels the same about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> ...yeah I know I'm updating a bunch of different things I'm sorry! I had the sudden urge to restart Origins and got the inspiration to work on this, so here we go!
> 
> Time skip: this is just post finishing Broken Circle. This chapter is (somewhat) from Alistair's POV, so we get to hear his thoughts this time around.
> 
> As anyone who's read basically any of my other DA fics knows, I love Cullen - just at this specific point in canon, I imagine Alistair wouldn't be to fond of him. Not angry, per say, just... protective of Ayre. Yeah we'll go with that.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy ♥

As far as Alistair was concerned, the sooner they left the tower, the better.

It had been a mess from start to finish - abominations and demons, blood mages and crazed Templars alike - and while things had been resolved as best as they could be, he would be happy to leave.

For Ayre's sake.

She was strong - stronger than anyone _here_ had ever given her credit for - but while she'd kept a blank expression on during their battles through the tower, he could tell the state of her old home was getting to her.

No matter how much she insisted she'd hated it there, she'd _cared_ , and he could tell through her interactions with Wynne, Irving, even Gregoir...

And Cullen.

Alistair eyed said Templar from the corner of his eye, keeping his mouth shut and his arms crossed but thoughts buzzing with questions and comments that would no doubt only cause more drama.

Ayre had seemed shocked by the man's confessions, her eyes wide and face turning red as he'd babbled, and that told Alistair she hadn't been lying; Cullen had been a friend to her, and that was all.

So to see her calm nearly break at his accusations had stung, though he would do nothing unless she requested it.

Alistair's head snapped up and his breath caught when the doors opened once more, gaze locked on the very elf he'd been thinking about.

She'd gone with Wynne to collect the older mage's belongings and tidy herself up a bit - which, he could see now, had also meant finally donning her new Grey Warden armor.

_Maker's breath, she's beautiful._

It was entirely inappropriate for the current circumstances and so he kept it to himself, instead returning her nod when she approached and following her obediently from the tower, ever preferring to follow her lead.

This time, he sensed, she was breaking away from the Circle, trying to move on, and he would do his best to help.

 

* * *

 

 

He managed to leave the topic alone for two days before giving up and leaving his tent to find her.

He found her sitting at the fire, staring unseeingly into the flames with a small frown on her lips, hands clutched in her lap.

The others were safe distances away; Morrigan studying the Grimoire Ayre had found in the Tower, Wynne sleeping in her hammock, Leliana checking over her arrows and Sten crouched again near Tracker, appearing to be having a stare-off with the Mabari.

Alistair felt safe, at least, in lowering himself onto the log beside her, the rose he'd foolishly plucked from Lothering tucked out of sight behind his back, "Are you alright, Ayre?"

"I'm fine." Ayre paused, shoulders sagging slightly as she blew out a breath, "Well... I'll _be_ fine. Eventually. It's just... it was a lot to take in, you know?"

"I know. And none of us would blame you for needing a few days rest."

The elf shook her head, black tresses swaying with every movement, "No, no, I'm okay, I'd rather keep moving towards Redcliffe, further away from..."

_Further away from the Circle,_ she didn't have to say.

"Whatever you desire, oh brave leader." he joked, glad when she cracked a tiny smile and elbowed him for the comment.

They sat in silence for several moments after that, Ayre staring again at the flames, Alistair twiddling with the rose and wondering how to broach the subject he _really_ wanted to talk about.

"What changes about you after the Joining?" she asked suddenly, catching him off guard.

"What d'you mean?"

"What changes physically, I mean?" Ayre amended her statement, turning blue eyes on him.

She's trying to distract herself, and if that's what she needs, he'll do whatever he can.

"Y'know, I asked Duncan the same thing. All he said was, 'you'll see', though."

"He wouldn't tell you?"

"Nope. He figured I'd realize soon enough... which I definitely did. Your metabolism jumps, for one... which leads to a _much_ bigger appetite. I used to raid the kitchens at night because I felt like I was _starving_!"

"Oh? I haven't noticed anything like that?"

"No?" Alistair grins cheekily, eyebrows up, "And yet I remember you _wolfing_ down dinner a few nights past, did you not?"

Ayre's cheeks turned pink, but the elf smiled and tipped her face back haughtily, "Well, I _am_ a growing girl."

_Yes you are._

Alistair chuckles, turning sombre after a moment, "There's also the dreams, like the one you had just after your Joining."

"Nightmares, you mean." by her tone, he knows she's experienced more since, "I've had... quite a few of those."

"The other Grey Wardens said they fade, after a while. Until near the end, when they come back even _worse_."

That makes her stop, turning to stare at him again, "What are you talking about?"

If ever Alistair wished he could take back his words, now's the time. "Right, there wasn't time to... explain before. The Taint, it... becomes too much, eventually. It poisons us, little by little. The good news is... you won't have to worry about dying of old age! You've got... maybe thirty years before the Taint takes you."

Ayre goes very silent as she processes this, voice a calm, quiet whisper when she finally speaks, "So I'm going to die."

"We're _all_ going to die, eventually. We'll just die a bit younger." Alistair frowns, watching her expression, "I'm sorry, Ayre, I shouldn't have told you yet, it's bad timing-"

"No, I'm glad you told me." a bit of herself shines through then, lips quirked the tiniest bit, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, "At least... we'll have each other when the time comes, right?"

Those words shatter what little hesitation he'd still had, pulling the rose out from behind him and holding it out to her, "Here, d'you know what this is?"

Ayre stares at the bloom for a moment, gaze startled, before gently taking it from him and cupping it in her hands, "It's a rose. Where did you get this?"

"I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking... how could something so _beautiful_ , exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone but I couldn't. The Dark Spawn would come and their Taint would just _destroy_ it. So... I've had it ever since."

"That's a nice sentiment, Alistair." Ayre's eyes are on the rose, but Alistair's are on _her_ , watching her expressions, terrified but determined.

"I thought I might..." he paused, swallowing, "...give it to _you_ , actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing, when I look at _you_."

The elf's eyes shoot up to his then, startled.  Then she smiles, just a little, cheeks flushing as her grip tightens slightly on the flower, "I... _thank you_ , Alistair. That's a lovely thought."

"I was just... thinking." her attention is still focused entirely on him, so Alistair forces himself to say what he wanted, to get it out after ages of holding it in, "Here I am, doing all this complaining... and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the _good_ experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks, or congratulations, it's all been... death, and fighting, and tragedy."

"I thought I could say something. Tell you what a... rare and wonderful thing you are, to find amongst all this darkness."

Then he flounders, blushing and looking away, "I donno, I guess it was... just a stupid impulse."

There's movement beside him and Alistair freezes when Ayre is suddenly leaning against him, her head on his shoulder and leg right up against his.

"Not stupid." she mumbles, smiling shyly up at him, "A very thoughtful one. Thank you, Alistair."

Alistair only hesitates a moment before gingerly lifting his arm to wrap around her shoulders, knowing his instinct was right when Ayre immediately curls closer, head falling to rest at the crook of his neck and her eyes falling shut with a soft sigh.

"I know... we haven't known each other very long. And that this is very, _very_ bad timing, but..." Alistair swallows, tightens his grip slightly, and plunges on, "...I care for you, Ayre. Deeply. I don't know, maybe it's too soon, or I'm deluding myself, but... d'you think you could... ever feel the same? About me?"

Ayre is silent for a moment before turning her face into his shoulder, mumbling only loud enough for him to hear and making his heart leap.

"Alistair... I think I already do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make my day! ♥


	4. Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group approaches Redcliffe, and Alistair reveals what he'd been hiding about his birthright.
> 
> There's not much time to dwell on it, however, is not all is well in the village...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hi guys!
> 
> I'm writing as I play this time so you'll be getting quick updates on this. This way I don't forget anything or lose motivation to work on it! So you may see this getting FINISHED fairly quickly!
> 
> Here's hoping, anyways.
> 
> Enjoy! ♥

They'd agreed, after leaving the Tower, to head for Redcliffe; it's nearby and makes sense as a next stop, but it's also so they can check in on Arl Eamon and see if the Knights have made any progress in their quest.

What Ayre hadn't expected was Alistair catching her by the elbow to halt her just as the first bridge came in sight, expression unreadable.

"Alistair?" she questioned softly, still getting used to the tingles she got whenever he touched her, fighting off a blush with Wynne and Leliana standing _right there_.

"Look, can we... talk for a moment?" his expression switched to one of mild embarrassment, and Ayre's curiosity rose, "I need to tell you something I, ah... probably should have told you earlier."

A million different answers popped into Ayre's mind, but she brushed them away and inquired quietly, "What's on your mind?"

"You remember how I told you Arl Eamon raised me? The reason he did that was because..." Ayre could see his throat bob as he swallowed, hesitating, "...well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my... half-brother, I suppose."

Ayre's ears pull back and her heart stops, scanning his expression for any sign that he's messing with her - he's not, he looks to damn _sad_ for it to be a joke - before choking out, "Are... are you heir to the throne?"

"Maker's breath, I hope not!" his panic at the comment settles her own somewhat, his shoulders tensed at the thought, "If anything, _Arl Eamon_ is the heir, not me! I just... everyone who knew either resented me for it or coddled me... even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you to know, as long as possible. I'm sorry."

"You still should have told me." Ayre can't help mumbling, feeling hurt and left out.

Alistair mutters another _I'm sorry_ before seeming to sink back into his usual persona, loudly continuing "At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I... thought you should know about it, now."

"Should I be calling you 'Prince Alistair' now?" she quips, poking purposely.

Alistair groans, already moving to continue into the village, "Maker, I _knew_ this would happen; _please don't_ , Ayre, I beg you. Let's just go back to pretending I'm some nobody who was to lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens."

Ayre doesn't respond, merely nodding and following after, catching Wynne's concerned gaze and trying to smile.

She doesn't have much time to dwell on it, anyways; they run into trouble the moment they step into Redcliffe.

 

* * *

 

 

They spend that night defending the Village from the horrors spewing from the Castle.

They spend the following day sneaking _into_ the Castle and freeing Teagan and the castle staff from the spell of the demon, though the demon itself has slipped away.

Ayre then finds herself leading the group _back_ to the Tower to get Irving, so they can save Connor the _proper way_.

No Blood Magic, no matter how ready Isolde is to give up her life for her son, especially considering Jowan would be the one to perform it.

Jowan. She'd never planned to see him again, and her last days with him still _stung_.

Stung enough that her new wound from Alistair remained open and injured, the elf resolutely staying away from him when they camped and making sure someone else was always nearby if she couldn't.

It was petty, and childish, but his lack of trust in her had hurt, and the secrets reminded her to freshly of Jowan's betrayal.

So the trip to the Tower saw little interaction between the two; Ayre spent her time going over the Grimoire with Morrigan, ultimately agreeing to track down Flemeth for her.

Listening to Leliana's stories.

Recruiting Zevran on the way _back_ to Redcliffe - they really _did_ need all the help they could get, and he seemed ready enough to help. Plus, anyone else in the camp could easily take him down if they had to.

Training with Sten, or playing fetch with Tracker, or discussing the Circle with Wynne and Irving...

Definitely not huddled up in her tent, hiding and hoping the pain in her chest would go away, the occasional tear forcing its way past her eyelids.

She was stronger than this, damn it. And much as it hurt... it hurt because she _cared that much_. She wanted Alistair to be comfortable telling her _everything_ , to not keep secrets.

As they drew closer to Redcliffe, Ayre forced herself to stop being a coward, knowing if she didn't the rift would only grow larger and unrepairable.

So, clutching the little discovery she'd made inside Arl Eamon's study, Ayre approached the man's figured where he sat by the fire, alone sides for the crackle of the flames.

He said nothing as she sat down beside him - not quite as closely as they had, that last time they'd bore their hearts, but not far away either - but Ayre caught him sneaking glances at her, looking confused and just a little hopeful.

Finally, before she could lose her courage, Ayre held the object out to him, palm open to display it fully, "Here."

Alistair stared at the amulet for a moment, wide eyed, before gingerly taking it from her, just the brief brush of his fingers against hers making her shiver.

"This... this is my mother's amulet." his eyes were glued to the little thing, confusion obvious, "Where did you find it?"

"In the Castle." Ayre murmured, daring to shift just a bit closer on the log, "In Arl Eamon's study."

"But... it was in pieces. Why would he repair it?"

"Perhaps you mean more to him then you think." she replied, wondering if he could tell that the words also counted from her.

That seemed to hit home, and Alistair drew in a shaky breath, closing his fingers gently around the amulet before looking at her, smile watery but honest, " _Thank you_ , Ayre. I only mentioned it briefly, yet you remembered..."

"Of course I remembered," Ayre lifted her gaze, watching him, "You're special to me."

Alistair's eyes widened briefly, and she could see him swallow again, as though wanting to say something.

She beat him to it "Why did you keep your birthright a secret?"

He flinched, and then in typical Alistair fashion, he tried to joke "Youuuu never asked?"

"I'm hurt that you didn't trust me." Ayre responded quietly, startled when he shifted immediately closer and grabbed one of her hands, looking a little desperate.

"No, Ayre, please don't think that!" he was begging, and she could only stare, listening, "It's not that I didn't trust you! It's just... please, let me try to explain?"

At her nod, he continued, still gripping her hand, "I'm used to just... not telling anyone who didn't know. It was a secret; illegitimate _bastard_ running around, can't have everyone knowing, right? Even Duncan was the only Grey Warden who knew."

"And then, after the battle when I should have told you... I don't know, it seemed too _late_. How do you just... _tell_ someone that?" he sighed, scowling, "I... should have told you anyway. It was important for you to know. I guess, part of me... liked you not knowing."

"Why?" Ayre's doing her best to focus on his words, to try to stay at least _slightly_ miffed at him, but the note of depression in his voice and the way he's stroking her fingers unconsciously are making it hard.

"Because people treat me differently when they know. I become the 'bastard prince' and not just... Alistair. I never wanted it, _any_ of it. So many choices have been made for me, all my life, and I'm _sick_ of it. I sure as _hell_ don't want to be King, and I thank the Maker that Arl Eamon is more likely to inherit... if he's alright."

"I guess... I just wanted you to like me for me, and not because of my bloodline. That's all."

_That_ makes Ayre's heart thump, because isn't that exactly what she's always wanted? For people to _like_ her for being herself, not some illusion they've cooked up of what an elf should be? A mage?

"Alistair..." Ayre covers his hand with hers, taking a deep breath, "I've liked you since I met you, because I like _you_. I don't care about titles, or anything like that. You should know that by now."

"And..." this is the hard part, and she swallows, telling herself to be _brave,_ "And... I've... _liked you_ since that night you woke me from my first Nightmare. A lot."

She sees his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush and wonders if she's made a horrible, horrible mistake, only to jump when his hand suddenly cups her cheek, thumb stroking over the skin.

He's _closer_ , suddenly, leaning down, and she can feel her face flushing even as she lets her eyes flutter closed, shivering when his lips finally brush against hers.

It's the barest touch, soft and gentle and hesitant, and when he pulls away she keeps her eyes shut, knowing without looking that they're both blushing brightly.

"That was..." Alistair huffs out a breath, sounding giddy and terrified, "I hope that wasn't too soon..."

"I don't know..." Ayre whispers back, opening her eyes just enough to give him a tiny smirk, slipping an arm around his neck to draw him back down, "I think I need more testing to be sure..."

He manages a short chuckle before kissing her again, lips pressed more firmly to hers this time, more confident from her response; one hand settling on her hip while the other remains on her face. Ayre finds herself wrapping both arms around his neck, winding up in his lap by the time they need to pull back for air.

"Maker's Breath," Alistair mumbles once they've separated, blushing and grinning, "I am a _lucky_ man."

Ayre rewards him with another kiss for that, leaving him with a wide grin and slightly dopey look as she retreats to her tent for the night, feeling warm and light and _happy_.

Tomorrow, they return to Redcliffe; for now, at least, the Warden's can rest.

 

* * *

 

 

Ayre is exhausted following her third foray into the Fade, but the sense of triumph when she emerges victorious and finds herself back in the main hall, surrounded by surprised and elated faces, vastly outweighs the feeling.

She’d defeated the Desire Demon and released Connor from it’s claws, waking to find Arl Eamon still unconscious but, thank the Maker, _alive_.

Which lead to their next destination; Denerim, to find Brother Genitivi and hopefully a lead to the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

They’d be stopping in the Brecilian Forest first to speak to the Dalish Clans there, since it was on the way to Denerim and would make it easier to continue onwards.

As much as all she wants to do is crawl into her tent and pass out the moment they have the camp set up, Ayre doesn’t resist when Alistair catches her again by the arm, though the look on his face this time is more one of _awe_ then one of nervousness.

“Now that we’re back at the camp, I want to talk about what happened. At Redcliffe, I mean.”

Ayre steps into him easily, less shy now that they’ve taken another step into whatever their relationship is, head tilted back to watch his expression, “I think it turned out quite well, don’t you?”

“It turned out… as perfectly as it could have,” Alistair grins and shifts so he’s holding both of her hands, tiny in comparison to his, thumbs stroking over her knuckles in a nervous habit she'd noticed before, “You didn’t have to help, or go into the Fade yourself, or… do anything that you did, really. But you went above and beyond for people you didn’t even _know_ … I don’t know how to thank you, Ayre.”

“You’re welcome.” she responds simply, returning the grip with a smile, “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to.”

“You’re too good to be true, Ayre.” Alistair mumbles fondly, though she doesn’t have much time to do anything but blush before he’s pressing on, “Also, I… have a request. There’s somewhere… _someone_ , I’d like to try to seek out while we’re in Denerim.”

Ayre’s ears prick, surprised, “Of course. Who are we looking for?”

“Well, I’ve… discovered I have a sister, on my mother’s side. Her name is Goldanna; she lives in Denerim.” Alistair clears his throat, clearly anxious, “I don’t think she knew about _me_ , either; they kept my birth a secret, after all. But I did some checking… she’s alive, and I’d… I don’t know, like to try to make contact.”

“Of course, Alistair.” it’s an easy response, as she’s excited that he’s found some family, “I’ll do what I can to help.”

The look of relief and gratitude he gives her nearly makes her melt, even more so when he releases her hands to instead place them gently on her waist, “ _Thank you_ , Ayre; with the Blight, who knows if I’ll get another chance? You are far to good to me.”

“You’re welcome.” Ayre mumbles again as he bends towards her, eyes fluttering closed and breath hitching as he kisses her gently, relaying just how grateful he is.

  
This will take her some getting used to, but it’s something she’ll gladly work at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make my day~! ♥


	5. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time a problem is solved, a new one appears.
> 
> The Dalish need help - and offer insight - before the group moves on to Denerim, and finding Alistair's sister turns out to not be the warm reunion they'd been hoping for.
> 
> A Bond is sealed, for who knows what the future holds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TADA! Another chapter!
> 
> ...because like I said I'm writing as I play so I don't forget things weeee.
> 
> Upped the rating because while it doesn't go INTO smut, per say, I wanted to be safe. Plus I may end up adding some later, but for this chapter I liked leaving it as it was. I can't seem to write smut lately :( Hopefully it'll pass when I get to points in other stories but for now, alas...
> 
> Regardless, enjoy! ♥

They'd made several stops and had a number of encounters on the way forwards - had _peacefully_ settled things with Flemeth (without telling Morrigan), tracked down several bandits, taken out Darkspawn - before _finally_ arriving in the Brecilian Forest, and finding the Dalish Clan that had made camp on its outskirts.

The greeting they received was perhaps more hostile then Ayre would have expected, but not as bad as it could have been, and they'd been led to the Keeper without too much hassle.

Zathrian was too caught up in his own concerns about the Clan and the Curse they were afflicted with to really do much asides from requesting aid and then waving them away to his First, saying he had things to take care of.

No, it was Lanaya who took note of Ayre - more specifically, of her markings.

"Your Vallaslin..." she trailed off for a moment, seeming to search for the proper words, "This may be rude of me to say, Warden, but it is not a design I have seen... well, in years, honestly. _Dirthamen_ is not a God commonly worn in the Clans I have dealt with."

"No?" Ayre couldn't help being curious; she hadn't even known which God's symbols she wore, since they'd been chosen for her, and the Tower didn't have much on Elvhen history.

"Indeed. Might I ask why you chose the Vallaslin you did?"

"It was chosen for me." there was no point in lying, surely, "Right before I was taken to the tower, I was given the Vallaslin. All I remember is the pain... none of the meaning was ever explained to me."

Lanaya's brows lowered, lips pinched together, "Hmm... which Clan did you originally come from?"

"I couldn't say for sure, I was only eight at the time, but," Ayre paused, suddenly anxious, "I believe it was Surana, as that is the last name I've been given in the Tower?"

Clear, _sad_ understanding suddenly lit the older elf's eyes, and Ayre had to resist the urge to _flee_.

"That makes sense." Lanaya paused, then looked Ayre directly in the eye, "I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, Warden, but Clan Surana was wiped out roughly a decade ago. I'm sorry."

Ayre's breath caught, staring wide eyed and frozen as her companions muttered around her, shocked.

Her Clan... they'd been... a _decade ago_ , which would have been just after she'd... _oh_ -

A warm hand closing on her shoulder snapped Ayre from her thoughts, and she swallowed thickly before covering Alistair's hand with her own, nodding to Lanaya.

"I... see. Thank you for telling me. Now, how can we acquire your aid in the Blight?"

 

* * *

 

  

By the time they'd handled things with the Dalish and finished their trip to Denerim, Ayre was _very_ sick of dealing with people and just wanted to hide away in her tent.

As she always strived to do, she'd managed to find the best possible solution for the Dalish _and_ the Werewolves; convinced Zathrian to remove the curse, freeing the remaining Werewolves and curing his own people.

Lanaya - the new Keeper, now, - had pledged to uphold her peoples treaty, and so the group had moved on to Denerim.

First up had been dealing with Marjoline for Leliana - chasing the Orlesian snake off, even if just for the time being.

Then trying to find Brother Genitivi and only finding a vague lead on his whereabouts, killing the imposter assistant that had been lying in wait.

Errands, bandits, blood mages, Templars... and then _finally_ they had found Goldanna's house, and just as Ayre had thought they'd moved into calm waters, she'd again been proven wrong.

Ayre hadn't liked the woman from the moment they'd entered the house, but she'd kept her mouth shut and let Alistair do the talking... until Goldanna began to snap at and demean him.

The bitch could call Ayre whatever she liked, but the elf would _not_ stand for her putting Alistair down; once his 'sister' had made it clear all she was interested in was coin, Ayre had gotten the warrior out of there, not willing to let him be berated any longer.

She'd done the best she could to reassure him once they were back in the open air of the market - he didn't need an ungrateful sister in his life, he wasn't alone; _she_ cared, almost too much, and she wasn't going anywhere - and they'd continued on their way, finishing up any last business before they headed towards the Frostbacks to look for the urn.

Once they'd hit camp, though... Ayre had needed to be by herself. She wasn't hungry and couldn't manage to fake a smile as she normally would, mumbling to Wynne that she wasn't feeling well and would be in her tent till the morning.

Physically she felt fine, of course; it was her _emotions_ that were a mess, the sting of hearing of her Clan's death and the harsh words of Goldanna towards Alistair upsetting her more then she'd like to admit.

Ayre stripped off the top layers of her Warden armor and sat it carefully in its usual corner, her staff laid straight along the side of her bedroll; easy to grab but out of the way.

She waved her hand and allowed a small ball of mage light to form in the corner of the tent, casting light as she made sure everything was properly pinned down and in place. Dressed in just a loose tunic, her breast band, and her small clothes, Ayre sat on her bedroll and drew her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them and sighing.

Just... thinking. And half wishing a certain warrior would come to find her, much as she'd wanted to be alone before.

Ayre's ears pricked as footsteps sounded outside her tent, the very voice she'd just been thinking about calling through the tent flap, "Ayre? Are you in there?"

"You can come in, Alistair." she called back, heart doing its usual little flip-flops when he poked his head in and gave her a crooked grin.

"You sure I'm not bothering you?"

"You could never bother me, Alistair." Ayre responded truthfully, and the smile he gave her was so damn _charming_ it was unfair.

"Oh, that's good, great even." Alistair slipped inside the tent and made sure the flaps were closed tight before carefully making his way over to her, taking a seat beside her and mimicking her position, "I wasn't sure if you actually wanted to be _alone_ , alone, or if you just... y'know, wanted some quiet time. Which if you _really_ want to be alone or sleep or anything, just say the word and I'll go, I don't want to bother you-"

Ayre huffed out a laugh and let herself lean against him, head resting on his shoulder and touch silencing his rambling.

"You're not bothering me." she murmured, breathing in deeply to catch his scent, "I'm glad you're here, Alistair."

"I'm glad." he responded, shifting so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders and squeeze her tight against his side, cheek resting on her head with a sigh.

He'd discarded his armor as well, wearing just his under tunic and loose pants, and even as Ayre realized he could probably see the entirety of her legs where her own tunic has pulled up, she found she didn't care. She had nothing to hide from him.

"I'm sorry about your Clan." Alistair mumbled after a moment, and _ahah_ , he was worried about her, too.

"It's alright." Ayre whispered back, and it's true. "I mean... I was sad to hear it, and shocked. But at the same time, I never _knew_ any of them. I don't remember my parents. The only clear memory I have from my time before the Tower is the _pain_ of receiving my Vallaslin. Hardly enough to really be depressed about it."

"Okay." Alistair paused, sounding almost sheepish when he continued, "I'm... also sorry about the whole _Goldanna_ mess. I shouldn't have brought you there..."

"No, Alistair, don't apologize for that; none of that was your fault." Ayre pulled away from him in a moment, shifting so she could face him directly and make him see how serious she was about it, "You had no way of knowing she would react that way; I'm glad you _wanted_ me there. Honestly."

"I guess I'd just..." the look on his face made her heart hurt, a defeated expression that she hated, "I'd just hoped to find a family."

"You _have_ a family, Alistair." Ayre grabbed his hands in hers, squeezing and trying to reassure him, "Our little group might be make shift, but they're _family_ , now. And... you have _me_. You'll always have me."

"Thank the Maker for that." he responded, just watching her for a moment, thinking. Then he swallowed, cheeks flushed, "There was... something else I wanted to ask you."

"Ask away."

"I don't... know how. This always happens." Alistair mumbled, grip tight on her hands, "Whenever you're around I feel like my tongue's tied and my heads going to explode... I feel nervous and overwhelmed and _happy_ , so happy."

Ayre smiled, cheeks flushed brightly even as she replied "I feel the same way about you, Alistair."

"Being around you makes me _crazy_ ," he laughed, the sound quiet and nervous, "But I can't imagine _not_ being around you. _Ever_. I couldn't handle that, you're... amazing, Ayre. And I am so, _so_ lucky to have you at my side... I don't ever want to _lose_ you."

"I'm not going anywhere." she promised, but Alistair shook his head, grip on her nearly desperate at this point.

  
"Both of us could die in this Blight, and I couldn't... live with the thought of being a coward and missing out on a chance."

Alistair lifted his head then, gaze determined and so damned _tender_ it made her blush worsen, "Ayre... I want to spend the night with you. Here, in the camp."

Ayre's eyes went wide, surprised, "Alistair?"

He pressed on, clearly trying not to lose his nerve, "Maybe this is too fast, I don't know, but... I know what I feel, _how_ I feel about _you_."

"Even though I'm an elf?" she couldn't help questioning, heart hammering.

Alistair only chuckled, " _Especially_ because of that. You're... _beautiful_ , Ayre. Smart, talented... I'm lucky you've even _looked_ at me. I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place, but when will it _be_ perfect? If things were, we wouldn't have even met."

"That's true..." Ayre shuffled closer to him, only then realizing that she'd somehow come to be kneeling between his legs, so close to him it's making her head spin.

"We sort of... stumbled into each other." Alistair stroked her knuckles gently, gaze still locked on hers, "Yet, despite this being the _least_ perfect time, I still found myself _falling_ for you, even amidst all the fighting."

"I... really don't want to wait anymore," his expression changed slightly, nerves and anxiety clear beneath the affection, "I've... never done this before. You know that. I want it to be with _you_ , Ayre, while we have the chance... in case..."

Ayre didn't let him finish that thought; she pushed herself up and silenced him with her lips pressed to his, feeling the shock of her touch run through him as he inhaled sharply.

She pulled away after a moment, staying close so she could feel his breath on her lips, hands braced on his shoulders while his found her hips.

"I've never done this either," she whispered, trying to be brave, heart pounding, "but I agree. We can learn together. I love you, Alistair."

Alistair mumbled what sounded like a curse mixed with her name before kissing her deeply, grip on her tightening even as Ayre's arms go around his neck to hold on.

Alistair's the only man Ayre's ever felt like this for; the only man she's ever kissed, and if they're to die in the end - from the War, or the Blight, or the Taint in the years to come - then at least she'll be able to say she'd given herself to him, body and soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are love! ♥


	6. Breaking Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orzammar. The Deep Roads... and the Broodmother.
> 
> Things are coming to a head, and with the Landsmeet looming, Ayre's more stressed then ever.
> 
> The Nightmares aren't helping... but thankfully her Warrior is never far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MANAGED SMUT GUYS.
> 
> ...Yup. Hi. This chapter has ACTUAL SMUT, isn't it amazing? Not super detailed but I'm pretty happy with it :3
> 
> Slowly getting to the end here! There will be post-game content in here, but game stuff is almost done!
> 
> Enjoy! ♥

 

By the time Ayre was allowed to retreat to her room in Denerim, she was frustrated and exhausted and very, _very_ close to losing her temper with Eamon.

_Her_ room. _Just hers_. Because Maker _forbid_ Eamon allow she and Alistair to share a room in his Castle - no matter the fact that they'd been _sharing a tent_ since their first night together, after finding Goldanna - whether so he could harass the poor man about becoming King, or so that rumors of their relationship wouldn't spread, she didn't know.

Nor did she care; she just wanted him there, not forced to endure Eamon's lectures.

Because while Ayre respected the Arl to a point - as much as she could, knowing how he'd treated Alistair as a child - she had _no plans_ to allow Alistair to take the throne.

Alistair _didn't want it_. At all. Had constantly reminded the Arl of this to his face, yet Eamon persisted.

Even after rescuing Anora - and being captured and having to fight out of yet _another_ ridiculous situation - and seeing that she was not at all in support of her father's deeds, Eamon insisted a _Theirin_ must hold the throne.

_Not if I can help it._

Ayre had already spoken to Anora in private, and agreed to support her in the Landsmeet; she seemed a decent woman, she knew what she was doing, and she _wanted_ to remain Queen. It made sense.

_Maybe it's a good thing Alistair's not here,_ the elf sucked in a shaky breath, eyes squeezing shut as tears of frustration welled behind her lids, _He won't see me... Maker, I'm a weakling..._

Ayre curled into herself, letting herself cry, so tired that she soon passed out... only to jolt awake with a scream not half an hour later, magic buzzing around her hands and eyes wild, hazy, darting around the room as the images continued to play.

_Surrounded, caged in, Darkspawn flooding from every direction. Hands reaching, grabbing, yanking away her staff and forcing her still, out of mana and suddenly defenceless. They grabbed not to kill, however; no, they would do much, much worse, and in the distance a Broodmother roared, looking horribly like-_

It was the same Nightmare every time - asides from the second dream of the Archdemon, back when they'd left Denerim that first time. It had started after Orzammar.

Or... after the Deep Roads, really.

They'd arrived at the gates to find the City closed off, their King dead and the Assembly deadlocked.

Thankfully, being a Grey Warden came in handy; they'd been allowed access and sought out the men fighting for the throne, aiming to settle the debate and gain the aid the treaties demanded.

Ayre had decided to help Prince Bhelen; she would admit she knew little of the Dwarven families, but Bhelen seemed eager to help fight the Blight, and wanted to open trade more widely with the surfacers. That seemed alright.

She lost track of how many tasks and errands they ran around the city - even returning to the Tower briefly to ask Irving if a young dwarf named Dagna could study there, something the First Enchanter agreed to with a chuckle - and the moment they stepped foot into the Deep Roads, Ayre _hated_ them.

There was a constant sense of dread and foreboding in the Darkspawn filled tunnels, and even during the times they camped briefly - in as defensible and hidden corners as they could find - Ayre could not relax, laying awake and listening to Alistair's breathing above her head.

Overall, however, it was just a battle through more Darkspawn, dreary but no worse than they'd expected... until they reached the Dead Trenches, and found Hespith.

And Laryn... or rather, what Laryn had become.

It wasn't hard to put together what Hespith had mumbled about once the beast was defeated, a sense of horrified dread welling in Ayre's stomach.

Darkspawn didn't kill _all_ of their captives... only the men. They _needed_ the women to... to...

Ayre had shoved the thought aside and resolutely led the group onwards, brushing off worried questions from the others and simply wanting to be _done_ with this awful place.

They found Branka - driven mad by her need for the Anvil - and fought their way through numerous traps, unable to go anywhere but forwards.

At the end they'd found Caridin, now a Golem himself, who requested their help; destroy the Anvil, so that other dwarves would not be forced to give their lives to it.

A request Ayre very much agreed with.

They'd fought and defeated Branka - something Oghren wasn't too happy about - Caridin had forged them a crown for the new King, and then destroyed himself.

Ayre had been very, very happy to leave the Deep Roads behind, as well as Orzammar once Bhelen was crowned and had pledged his support to the Blight.

They'd made the trek back to Redcliffe to inform Arl Eamon, and from there they'd travelled to Denerim, settling in at the Arl's Estate.

They'd barely arrived when Loghain showed his face - Ayre had a hard time biting her tongue - and not two hours later, the Queen's handmaid had come asking for help.

The Queen was in danger, and needed their aid.

Which had led to infiltrating Arl Howe's Estate - freeing several nobles and wrongly imprisoned men in their wake - before confronting Howe and rescuing the Queen.

And then being captured, and Ayre and Alistair sneaking their way out of Fort Drakon.

And _then_ checking out the Elven Alienage for Anora, discovering and taking out the Tevinter Slaver operations going on there under _Loghain's_ permission.

All the while, having the Nightmare every time she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, leaving her frustrated, anxious, and exhausted.

And now, to have Alistair kept away from her... it only added to that anxiety, because without him there the Nightmare's were _worse_.

Ayre swung her legs over the edge of the bed, face still a mess from her tears but _determined_ to go find him-

-only to jump when Alistair suddenly barged in the door, closing and locking it immediately behind him before slumping with a rough groan.

"A-Alistair?" she questioned quietly, wincing at how shaky her voice was.

"Makers _breath_ , if I have to listen to Eamon go on about 'my duty as a Theirin' any longer, I will go _mad_." Alistair gave another sigh before his expression switched to one of hopeful questioning, lifting his gaze from the ground to address her "Mind if I stay with you tonight - Ayre?"

He'd looked up and stopped, eyebrows rising and expression changing to concern. Ayre bit her lip and ducked her gaze, grip tight on the sheets as she fought back angry tears.

"S-sorry, Alistair, I was... it was..."

Ayre jolted in surprise when he was suddenly in front of her, going to his knees so he could see her face, looking so damn worried she felt herself blushing.

"The Nightmare?" Alistair whispered, mouth settling in a firm line when she nodded, "Can I help?"

"I hate this." she mumbled bitterly, allowing him to see the emotions she'd been keeping in check, tired of reigning them in, "I _hate_ not having you here, with me, that you're in a separate room. And I just... keep seeing _that_ , over and over, when I try to sleep... I could have... become a _monster_ , if..."

"I'd never let that happen." Alistair swore, expression one of firm assurance, " _Never_. I would _die_ before I let _anything_ touch you, Ayre."

"I think the _Taint_ would prevent it from happening, truthfully," regardless of the words, Ayre's tone didn't change, "I'd just _die_. After Maker knows how much _torture_ , I would die."

"Never." he repeated, expression turning a little desperate.

"Alistair, promise me something?"

"Anything, my love." he responded immediately, and Ayre can't help the tears that well up again, beyond grateful that she'd somehow crossed paths with this wonderful man.

"After the Blight, once we're done here... let's search for a Cure." she'd been thinking about it before, truthfully, and being in the Deep Roads has just strengthened her resolve to _not_ spend her final days there, "For the Taint. Instead of spending our last years in the Deep Roads. If we find one, we won't _have_ to... to _die_ , not like that."

"Okay." Alistair agreed quietly, hands coming to rest on her knees to rub circles over her skin, "We'll search for a Cure, together." He paused, watching her for a moment, "Is there anything I can do in the mean time?"

"Kiss me." Ayre whispered.

Alistair leaned up and pressed his lips to hers the moment the words were out, Ayre sighing in relief and melting into the touch without a thought.

She was glad she'd only worn her sleep tunic - one of _his_ , snagged months before - and smalls as Alistair lifted higher, giving himself room to maneuver without breaking away from her, hands running up from her knees over the bare skin of her thighs, making her shiver in familiar anticipation.

When they settled just short of the edge of her smalls she all but quivered with need, whimpering plaintively into the kiss; they'd only been together once since that first time, and Maker, after all the frustrations of the past weeks, she _needed_ him.

Alistair only continued to kiss her, slow and affectionate, deepening the touch just a smidge as _finally_ one hand ran higher, tugging questioningly at the edge of her smalls.

Ayre immediately lifted herself enough to allow him to pull them off of her, settling back down as his hands found her hips, her own gripping at his shirt and pulling.

They broke apart long enough for Alistair to yank his shirt off and toss it somewhere behind him, mouths finding each other again as his hands slid over her hips and bottom before resting again so close to where she really wanted him, spreading her legs wider to invite him closer, Ayre's hands finding and tangling in his hair.

She nearly cried in relief when he finally cupped her, palm rubbing gently up and down before his fingers ran along her folds, stroking softly at first before pressing harder, making her buck into the touch.

One finger ran directly along her seam before pressing gently in, and Ayre gripped his hair tighter, kissing him harder as he stroked her, gasping into his mouth when he added one and then two more fingers to her, pumping languidly.

He seemed content simply to kiss and please her, forever concerned about her pleasure before his own, but when his thumb found her clit and started rubbing circles over it Ayre pulled away from the kiss with a whimper, shaking her head.

"Ali-Alistair, _stop_ , love, I-"

Alistair froze, not withdrawing his fingers but not moving either, "Did I hurt you?"

"Oh, Maker, _no_ , love, you're so good to me, always, but," she lifted her hands to his face, tilting his head up to press their foreheads together, whispering, "I need _you_ , Alistair. _Please_."

The warrior stared at her for a moment before his eyes darkened, heat and want obvious in the amber depths as he licked his lips and nodded. "Your desire is my command, Ayre."

Ayre teased him with one last kiss before scooting away onto the bed, holding back a whine as his fingers slipped from her and yanking her tunic off to toss it in the same direction as his.

Alistair finished stripping at the same time, his pants and smalls left carelessly on the ground as he climbed over her, ever careful of her despite the straining erection he sported.

Ayre sprawled unselfconsciously, blushing but unafraid to show him her body, ever pleased by his obvious attraction to her. This would be the first time they'd been together in a proper _bed_ , and she felt like it meant something... more, then their previous encounters, as silly a notion as it might be.

Alistair lowered himself carefully, his knees between her legs and his arms braced on either side of her head, staring down at her with a look of such hunger and _affection_ she felt dizzy.

She hooked her legs loosely around his thighs, giving him easy access to her sex, shivering when he pressed down against her so his cock rested against her folds, sighing when he kissed her again.

Impatient, Ayre dug her heel into his ass, Alistair chuckling against her mouth as he got the hint and pulled back enough to position himself, beginning the gentle push in.

There was no pain, no strangeness or uncomfortable feelings; just a slight tug as she stretched to accommodate him, a lovely sense of fullness and completion as he settled inside her.

He paused for a moment, finding his bearings, and then began to move; a slow, easy push and pull, gliding in and out and drawing little whimpers from her with every stroke.

Ayre wrapped her legs and arms around him tighter, pressing him close and making it hard to move for a moment, but Alistair only kissed her more deeply, okay with whatever pace she wanted, nipping mischievously at her bottom lip and grinning at her growl.

Then she loosened her arms, bucked against him, and it was all the signal he needed; speeding his strokes, pumping harder, loosing himself completely in the tight clench of her sex and the press of her arms around him, the taste of her lips and the sounds of her cries.

Ayre, wonderfully prepped from his prior touches, came first, gasping and crying out as she released around him, clinging to his back as the pleasure washed over her.

Alistair cursed and buried himself one last time before following her over the edge, feeling wonderfully spent and sated as he stared down at the panting woman below him.

Ayre's eyes fluttered open when he brushed hair from her face - when had she closed them? she couldn't remember - and she smiled up at him, the first true smile she'd given since... well, in quite a while.

"Okay?" he questioned softly, pulling out and moving to lay beside her.

"More then." Ayre answered honestly, snuggling immediately against his chest and humming contentedly when he wrapped his arm around her, pulling the covers over them both, "I love you, Alistair. No more being kept separate."

"Agreed." Alistair squeezed her again, yawning as he settled, "From here on, we do everything together."

"Together." she whispered, dozing off into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are love! ♥


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